Silhouette
by soraxtsuna123
Summary: Ponyboy was home alone until a man breaks into his house. One-shot.


It was dead silent besides an annoying ringing and the constant flipping of paper. Ponyboy was sprawled out on the rugged couch, green-gray eyes concentrated on the words of a book he had to read for his English class. He dug his fingers in his greasy, auburn hair to better focus himself as he absorbed what the book was trying to convey.

The gang, besides Darry, had left a few hours earlier, deciding to enjoy the night. They were probably having intense matches of pool. Darry, on the other hand, had to leave because his boss called for help. Getting on his boss's good side might give him benefits, so, of course, Darry went to assist him. So that left Ponyboy alone, trying to finish his homework. Johnny offered to stay behind, but Ponyboy insisted that he went, not wanting to drag him back. Besides, he didn't want someone to stare over his shoulder as he worked, and Mickey Mouse not blaring was a virtue. Although, he missed (though wouldn't admit it) all the noise.

Ponyboy was about half way done with his reading homework when he looked up for a short break. He looked outside the window to the dark abyss. He wondered when the gang would return as most houses' lights were turned off. He didn't expect anybody would be out in the streets at this time, but a figure, illuminated by a streetlight, sent chills down his spine. The figure, practically a silhouette since no features could be made out, seemed to be staring through the window at him.

The hairs on Ponyboy's arms stood at its ends and he couldn't rip his eyes away. The two had a standoff, seeing who would move first. A half hour later, and he didn't move even the inch. Something was definitely wrong. Ponyboy had a bad feeling about this.

He reached behind him, groping for the phone. Ponyboy brought it to his ear and glanced down to hastily spin the number of Darry's boss. Fortunately, Darry had left the number near the phone instead of the kitchen so that he could keep an eye on the figure.

After a few rings, Darry's boss picked up. "Hello?" he asked.

"Can I speak to Darry?" Ponyboy asked. The older man heard the panic in the boy's voice and didn't question him. The line went dead for a moment before Darry picked up.

"Ponyboy?" he asked, a worried tone to his voice. "What's wrong?"

"There's this man who's not moving outside. He's staring at me."

Darry went silent. His voice turned more urgent. "How long has he been there?"

"I've been staring back for over a half hour. He's probably been there longer. He hasn't moved from the spot."

"Ponyboy, listen to me. Call the police and lock yourself in your room. I'll try to get there as soon as I can."

Ponyboy's heart dropped when hearing those words. He had hoped that this was nothing, but of course it wasn't. He felt sick to his stomach, even scared, as he dialed a new number. Another couple of rings before the operator picked up.

"911. How may I help you?" a female voice asked.

"There's a man who has been standing outside, looking at me, for over a half hour."

"Has this man been doing anything else?"

"No. He hasn't even moved."

"Is there anyone in the house with you?"

"It's just me."

"Sir, can you call back in a half an hour if something happens or doesn't change. It might be a false alarm."

"What? No, you need to send someone over right now. He's been standing outside staring at me for almost an hour now, possibly even longer." Irritation was beginning to lace Ponyboy's tone.

"Can I ask you how old you are and what your name is?"

"Ponyboy Curtis. I'm fourteen."

"Alright, Mr. Curtis, you need to call back in another half an hour."

"No! I need someone over here now!"

"Sir, please calm down."

"Just send someone over, please."

There was a moment of silence before she answered. "I will send some officers over. May I have your address?" I gave her my address. "Alright, they will be there as soon as possible. Do not look away from the man. If you notice any changes, please call back." The phone went dead and Ponyboy hung up.

He was now left with contradicting choices. Darry told him to hide while the operator wanted him to stay put and watch. He didn't know what to do, but apparently he didn't have to think much, since one option was left. The man moved. It was subtle, but a gleam was all Ponyboy needed to know to hightail out of the living room. The man was holding a blade.

Ponyboy threw down the book, not even picking up the phone to call the police. He was about to fling open the door to his room when he remembered the front door. It was still unlocked. He ran towards the front door, blood colder than ice, but he didn't make it. The tall man, figure still shadowed, was right outside the door. Ponyboy ran back to his room, locking the door; praying that he wasn't seen. He slid under the bed, though the closet might have been a better choice. He shook uncontrollably as he was on the verge of breaking down.

What felt like an eternity for Ponyboy, was only a few minutes. He thought the police or Darry would never make it in time, since the man was obviously looking for him and there were only a few rooms inside. The floorboards creaked outside his room, and Ponyboy was positive he wouldn't make it.

His heart stopped when the door handle wiggled, before the man started to pound on the door. The house shook with each slam. Finally, the door gave away and slammed against the wall, chipping it. The man walked in, stopping in front of the bed. His worn out, mud caked, boots were practically inches from Ponyboy's face. He covered his mouth, trying to block the sound of his breath.

There wasn't much in Ponyboy's room. The only possible places where he could be hiding was under his desk, the closet or under the bed. From where the man stood, he could already cross out the option of the desk. He walked to the closet, opening it before walking back to the bed, pausing, and crouching down.

Ponyboy was sure he was dead. If it wasn't from the man, the lack of heartbeat was sure to kill him. Ponyboy decided that he wasn't going to wait around for his death, and pulled himself out from under the bed, running towards the door. The man grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back, pushing him on the ground. He screamed and squirmed away from the man brandishing the knife. Ponyboy kicked blindly, hitting the man in the groin who bent over in pain.

Ponyboy shot up and ran to the window, pushing it open, and, without thinking, jumped out. As he landed, his foot landed awkwardly and pain erupted through his body. Ponyboy fell down screaming, reaching towards his now twisted ankle, but his eyes lifted towards the window and froze. The man's face had etched itself in every corner of Ponyboy's mind. His eyes were dead, angry, and murderous. His worst feature, by far, was his smile that curled from ear the ear in a playful manner. The man pushed himself on the ledge of the window and Ponyboy limped away as fast as possible, crying out when pressure was placed on his bad foot.

He could feel the man coming closer, but then the beautiful sound of sirens approaching caught both of their ears. Never in his life had Ponyboy been grateful of the fuzz. The police cars stopped in front of his house and Ponyboy rushed towards them as fast as he could carry himself. The police exited the car and some ran over, catching him.

Ponyboy was bombarded by questions, but all he could say was the man was behind him. The policemen ran towards the silhouette that jumped over the fence as Ponyboy clutched the policeman that stayed behind tightly. He was crying, not caring about being tuff or how he looked.

"Are you alright, son?" the policeman asked calmly.

Ponyboy shook his head. Unable to answer because of his choked sobs. Instead, he brandished his twisted ankle, deciding that it needed to be taken care of before he would be able to answer any questions.

The policeman helped him over to the ambulance and the paramedics instantly went to work on his ankle. After a while, Ponyboy calmed down, eyes still puffy and red.

The scene was already flooded with people. The sirens had woken the entire neighborhood up. Some policemen made sure they kept a considerable distance away from the scene. Ponyboy caught a glimpse of the gang who were trying to push past the wall of policemen.

"Can you tell me everything that happened?" the policeman asked.

Ponyboy nodded and explained what he was doing before he noticed the man, to his phone calls, to the man finding his hiding spot, and to his escape. The policeman listened intently, jotting down notes from time to time.

"Can you tell me what the man looked like and if he had any connections with you?"

Ponyboy could have told him what he saw, but just thinking about the man almost brought him back to tears. He shook his head. "No, sorry. It was too dark to see anything."

The policemen that chased after the man returned soon after, coming empty handed. The pit in Ponyboy's heart grew. They didn't catch the man. They never did.

It was a day later when Ponyboy found out that one of his neighbors have been murdered from a stab wound. He lived alone, having just been divorced, and was found by his kid that was dumped in his hands that came home from a party. If Ponyboy had been a second slower, he would have been just as dead as that man, and now he's still out there. Whether he will be back to finish the job or not, the man's face had forever carved itself in Ponyboy's brain.

 **o-o-o**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**


End file.
